City of Lights, City of Love
by Mamajules12
Summary: Half way through their honeymoon, Lucien and Jean are in Paris, exploring the city and each other.
1. Chapter 1

Nearly two months they have been traveling staying in hotels, intimate inns, quaint villas, sleeper trains even but nothing could have prepared Jean for what she encountered walking into the Hotel Le Bristol. Lucien has kept this part of their honeymoon a secret. Only telling Jean that they would be spending two weeks enjoying all that Paris has to offer. As they drove through the french countryside making their way towards Paris, Lucien was childlike in his anticipation to get Jean to the destination. Jean knew from the glint in his eyes that something big was planned but this she never imagined.

Standing just through the doorway of the grand foyer, Jean is frozen in awe. Her dear bumbling husband, shuffling luggage to the porter, oblivious to the marble staircase and sparkling chandeliers; the grandeur that surrounds them. Watching him make his way to the desk, she is unable find her voice to call out to him.

Standing at the front desk about to check in, Lucien turning to address Jean, realizing she is absent from his side. He spots her still standing by the entrance and rushes back to her sure that something must be a miss. In a few quick strides he is once again in the comfort of her proximity. "Jean, my darling, are you alright?"

In a hush tone, trying to keep her composure she chastises him. "Lucien, we can't stay here. It's too much. Look over there." Lucien goes to turn when Jean grabs his arm. "No, don't look."

"But you just said…"

"That is Rita Hayworth over there." Squeezing Lucien's arm tighter, "I don't belong here Lucien."

Lucien is struck hard with the meaning behind Jean's words. How could he make such a mistake with this. This big surprise that is meant to take her breath away, to show her how highly he regards her. He recalls Jean once saying how someone may not want to be reminded of their humble beginnings and here he has done just that, unintentionally of course.

Taking her face in his hands, he kisses her gently on the lips before whispering to her. "Mrs. Blake you most certainly belong here. Please allow me to spoil you in this astounding city. I want to see Paris with you, through your eyes, do all the things I never did on my own." He feels her muscles lose some of the tension as her shoulders drop.

"But Lucien, we can't afford this."

"We can, trust me. And I'll even start to drink cheap whiskey if you're worried that we'll go hungry when we get home." This earns him a proper smack on the arm. But he sees the levity has brought back the confidence that is his Jean. "Come on, Darling, this may be the only opportunity for both of us to experience such luxury."

"Oh really, you mean you didn't stay in places like this on all your travels Major Blake?"

With a mighty laugh, Lucien watches as his wife struts past him towards the desk. This woman is such a marvel. Everyday he promises himself to be better for her. Some days he fails miserably but more and more he succeeds. She makes him better just by being his Jean.

Yes, his Jean. It was Patrick that pointed this out to him. They were having a friendly banter at The Colonist when Lucien called her _my Jean. _Patrick ribbed Lucien about his possessiveness over the housekeeper, knowing full well that the two were engaged.

"Lucien…Lucien," Jean returns to him. "You were a million miles away. I asked if you have the reservation information?"

"Yes, of course."

The porter leads then to their fourth floor suite. Jean is once again grateful for Lucien's knowledge of the language. She makes her way into the room as Lucien continues in an animated conversation with the young man. There is a sofa in front of a fireplace and a small table to dine at. Making her way to the balcony, Jean notices the bedroom to the right of the french doors. She continues to step outside to take in their view of the garden's below. The fragrance of the flowers in bloom and the sounds of the city assault her senses.

Lucien weaves his arms around her waist, pulling her in tight. "Is the room to your liking?" Jean nods her approval. "I opted for a more modest suite with this balcony over the garden. There is nothing like Paris in Springtime."

"It is perfect. I can't imagine what the other suites look like if this is a modest one!" pushing herself deeper into his embrace.

"Well Rita Hayworth has the grand one." He jokes as he starts kissing the tender spot behind her ear.

"Excusez-moi monsieur," the young porter interrupts them.

Lucien kisses her temple before going to finish up with the porter. Suitcases are deposited in the bedroom, champagne and some food ordered. Lucien has no intentions of leaving this suite today and he told the porter such. They are not to be disturbed. They have 2 weeks to explore the streets of Paris. Tonight he has other exploring he wants to do.

"What are you thinking about Lucien? You have a terribly mischievous look on your face." Jean catching him deep in salacious thought of her.

"You, my love." he growls as he brings her in for a deep kiss, hands roaming her backside.

She pulls out of the kiss and away from him. He almost cries at the loss of her touch. Jean takes great delight in the effect she has on her husband. She never thought it possible that a worldly, handsome man like Lucien Blake would be so enamoured by her, Jean Beazley. "I'm just going to pop in the shower. Will you wait for the champagne then join me?" Jean questions as she walks towards the bedroom, wearing her own mischievous grin. Lucien's answers with a nod as he curses the bloody champagne in his head.

He sits on the edge of the bed, having already disrobed of his outer clothing, watching Jean dry off. Then slip on the pale pink chemise negligee that he bought for her in Melbourne. He was so tentative to give it to her, weeks before they would be taking their vows but he couldn't wait. It was a bold move that he knew he may regret but the look on Jean's face when she opened the box eased his worries. Her hand ran over the soft silk in the box almost afraid to touch it. Lucien's first thoughts of being chastised were replace with thinking she would melt in a puddle of sentimentality but not his Jean. No, instead she looked at him squarely eyes sparkling and asked, "Should I save this for our wedding night or would you like me to try it on now?"

Jean feels him staring at her. She is having her own bit of fun, teasing him as she slides the silk down over her body, knowing that it will get the same reaction as the night Lucien presented her with it. That night in the studio when she wrapped herself in silk for the very first time, she knew she no longer was dipping her toe in the water but diving head first into the deep end.

It wasn't long into their honeymoon that they both accepted that they no longer had the stamina of their youth, Lucien claiming defeat to his age. The endless days and nights of love making would not be for them. Instead they found their own rhythm of intimacy that allowed the hours to be filled with passion and tenderness without any expectation or disappointment. They found comfort in the familiarity of their two bodies, their two souls coming together.

"I figure since we are staying in the room this evening I would just slip this on." she seductively says as she makes her way him.

"I thought you didn't know French?"

"I've picked up a few words and phrases the past couple weeks." teasingly as she stands in front of her husband before climbing onto his lap straddling his legs. "Je t'aime. Je veux faire l'amour avec vous." she whispers in his ear as she runs her hands over the ridges that brand his back.

This is what she wants. The hotel, the room, Paris are all too surreal for her take in at once. She needs to feel something known to her, something real. She wants to make love to her husband. She needs to have him, this man who would sell his soul to make her happy. They will have the rest of the evening to drink champagne, hold each other, plan their adventures in the city but now she has a visceral want for him that needs to be sedated.

"Je te veux aussi mon amour, my Jean."


	2. Chapter 2

Jean wakes to the sunlight streaming in through the gap in the curtains. She snuggles herself deeper into her husband's embrace. His gentle snoring is sweet music to her. They are in the largest bed Jean has ever slept in yet the two are folded together in the middle as if any grand movement would topple them off the edge. Jean assumed after the first few nights of sleeping wrapped in one another's arms that they would start drifting apart in the course of a night but that has yet to be the case. She find that after so many years sleeping alone that she welcomes the heat, the smell, the touch of a man, her husband, more than she imagined She feels Lucien's arms tighten around her, instinctually holding her closer, lulling her back to sleep.

The absence of Lucien's warmth wakes her next. She stretches in the large bed as her beloved strolls in the bedroom wearing not much more than a grin. She can't help but feel a bit disappointed that once they are home in Ballarat that this freedom with their clothing or lack of will need to change.

"Good, your awake. I just ordered you some tea and a light breakfast." Lucien climbs on the bed hovering over Jean. Starting at her wedding rings he kisses his way up her arm pausing at her neck before reaching her lips. "We have about a half an hour before the food is here." Continuing the kisses down the other side of her body.

"You're pretty confident in yourself doctor." Jean teases. Lucien can't help but laugh along.

"You have no faith in me woman." Lucien begins sliding the blankets down her naked body as his lips follow the exposed skin. She shivers with want caused by the onslaught of her husband's mouth.

"I have all the faith in the world in you." She moans before losing all coherent sense.

Lucien pours out the tea for Jean, a coffee for himself and lays out two plates of pastries and fruit. He is grinning with pride that he can make his Jean come undone so wantonly. His scalp still tingles from her nails that raked through his hair. Her pleasure is his pleasure.

This trip is for her. He never desired to come back to this city that he frequented in his wild youth; during his time in Secret Intelligence. Then Jean told him of her dreams to see the world and that changed. Paris is meant to be seen with someone, a lover, a wife. So Paris is for her. Everything is for her.

"Oh, this looks lovely." Jean comes out of the bedroom dressed in a blue tailored skirt, a paler blue sleeveless top with the perfect neckline to showcase the set of black pearls Lucien gave her after their engagement.

"You look lovely." He tells her. Jean continues to astonish Lucien in her ability to transform her small traveling wardrobe into the perfect outfit fitting each new days adventure.

"Well given the limited time I had to get ready I'm glad you approve." There is a flush to her skin still present from Lucien's earlier attentions. "And don't look so smug about it."

Lucien throws his hands up in a gesture of defeat but can't help laugh at this woman whom continues to surprise him with each passing day. It is Jean that reaches for Lucien's hand to hold tightly through the playful banter over breakfast. It is Jean that strokes his beard, freeing the traces of pastry. It is Jean that gets lost in his eyes as he talks of their plans for the day. And when it is time to get the day started it is his Jean that stands first, sliding on her cardigan with such an elegant motion that Lucien gives thanks to the stars for this woman.

"Shall we go see some masterpieces, Lucien?"

"Of course, but is this really what you want to do on our first day exploring the city?" Lucien is sure that when Jean suggested last night to go to the Louvre today it is more for his sake then hers.

Jean swirls around to face him. "I most certainly want to go there today. I've always wanted to see The Mona Lisa, and The Venus De Milo, and there is a Vermeer. You know there are only a few in the whole world! Oh, and did you know they have a mummy, a real mummy? Fascinating." Jean's eyes are sparkling with excitement.

"Right, then let's go see some art shall we."

They walk through the entrance into the Denon wing that leads them right to the Roman and Greek Antiquities. The large stone sculptures line the walls, filling the space. Jean meanders through the rooms, pausing briefly at some sculptures while barely slowing down for others, knowing the magnitude of the museum in order to maximize their time. At The Venus De Milo they stop and take in the famous greek statue. Farther along Jean pauses again, this massive stone chiseled to show the perfection of the ancient greek male.

Lucien slides up next to her putting an arm across her shoulders. "What do you think of all this?"

Jean weaves her arm underneath Lucien jackets, pulling herself closer, eyes still on the stone male physique. "I think I am a very lucky lady." Giving her husband's bum a squeeze before moving on wearing a devilish grin.

Next they make their way to the Egyptian wing. Lucien watches Jean's face light up with fascination at the ancient riches. Weaving through the crowd they arrive at the mummy that is elaborately on display. The canopic jars and tools for mummification nearby. Lucien begins explaining the mummification process to Jean, trying desperately to retain his composure while watching her face journey through the gory details.

"Hmm…." He watches her process the information. Knows that this magnificent woman's mind is putting pieces together by the look in her eyes. "Lucien, I can't help but think of Boris Karloff."

Lucien lets out a howling laugh that breaks through the crowd making Jean scold him as if he were a child.

"I didn't know you like horror films."

"Oh, I don't. Hate them matter of fact. I'll probably have nightmares for days from this." Adding as she turns, finally bringing her eyes away from the mummy.

Lucien's face takes on a serious look as he thinks of all the times his Jean has soothed his nightmares away. "I'll be there to make them disappear."

Cupping his cheek, stroking his beard Jean gives him a quick gentle kiss, aware that they are surrounded by people. "Yes, you will. Shall we move on?" Weaving their hands together they continue on through ancient times.

Making their way to the first floor they meander through history; Middle Ages, Renaissance and so on. Lucien allows Jean to lead them through time, taking note of what she likes by the pace of her steps. Occasionally, she remarks on a painting or artifact but mostly they walk in an easy silence, hands laced together. Rarely does she stop and stare at a work of art leading Lucien to worry that his darling may be getting bored with the day.

The crowd of people starts to move slower, getting denser. "The Mona Lisa is just up ahead." Lucien says closely in her ear as they continue moving forward.

They are finally in view of the daVinci masterpiece. Lucien wraps his arms around her from behind excited to share this moment with her. He is not able to see the furrow of Jean's brow.

"That's it!" Jean says in astonishment.

Lucien is aghast at his wife's indifference to one of the world's most famous works of art. "Bloody hell! What do you mean is that it?"

Jean is trying to keep her voice to a whisper to not draw attention to them. "It's very nice. It's just rather small and...I don't know. After all we have been seeing it seems simple." Lucien throws his hands in the air in disbelief. "I'm sorry Lucien." She turns and walks away the first time all day without holding his hand.

In a few long strides he is at her side once again grasping for her hand. "What do you say we get a bite to eat in the cafe? We can head back to the hotel after."

"But I want to see the Vermeer."

"Oh, I thought you might be done with all this."

"Just because The Mona Lisa didn't impress me doesn't mean I'm not enjoying myself Lucien. We all have different taste. Now," squaring her shoulders, "let's get that bite to eat then see the rest of the museum."

Lucien is standing mouth hanging wide in awe, not of the painting per se but of the look on Jean's face. They are standing in front of a painting not much larger than the postcard they just sent Matthew. Jean is lost in Vermeer's The Lacemaker not some massive painting or sacred religious artifact but this girl doing an everyday task. _Yes, of course this painting resonates with my marvelous wife._ This masterpiece speaks to her, of her, like no other they have seen today.

Jean finds herself unable to look away. She sees herself in the young girl, weaving the fine thread, knotting along the pins, creating her own work of art. She thinks how her eyes must strain doing such delicate details with little light and the ache in the shoulders at the daunting task. Jean sees beyond what is on the canvas. She knows this girl.

Finally, Jean finds her voice. "It's so beautiful. Look how she holds the bobbins in one hand and the pin in the other. And all the little pins holding the lace in place." Turning to her husband, he catches the shine of unshed tears in her eyes. "You know she is probably doing this by the light of a window. Just look how it reflects off of her."

This is his Jean, so clever, so much more than she ever was allowed to be. In this moment it comes to no surprise to him that his wife loves and appreciates the beauty of art deeper than even he thought. That this day is exactly what she wants for them. Unable to see anything beyond his Jean, he reaches out to her, cupping her face. "Yes, it is beautiful, my darling." Kissing her longer than is proper for such a public place before pulling away only to nuzzle into her ear whispering. "You are beautiful."

"Now we can leave." Taking a hold of his hand from her cheek, Jean leads the way once again.


	3. Chapter 3

"You want to take the stairs! Really?" Jean looks up at the tremendous iron tower looming ahead of them.

"Why not? We're here and in good health."

"You do know it's like 670 steps?" Jean watches his face closely as Lucien eyes look towards the skies and then towards the elevators. "Well, what did you do when you were here before?"

"Umm, well, I've actually never been up the tower."

"What? Lucien, how many times have you been to Paris and you have never been to the Eiffel Tower." Jean can not wrap her mind around this.

"Well, I've been here, just not up there." Pointing up towards the top.

Jean goes in for a quick peck on the lips before pulling his hand leading the way. "Let's change that then."

There are dozens of younger people, couples heading towards the stairs. Jean and Lucien take notice of the older crowd lined up for the elevator. Jean gives Lucien a nudge and a wicked grin. "Think you can keep up old man?"

"Huh, I'll give you old man." as he catches her in an embrace.

The lines for the elevator is quite long. Jean is excited that Lucien wants to take the stairs. It adds to the adventure. She can feel her heart racing and not a step upward has been taken yet. This place, this cold iron structure has been in her dreams since she can remember. At the base of the stairs she turns to Lucien again. "I really can't believe you haven't done this."

"I was waiting for the right person to share it with. Come on now. You infront of me in case you slip. I can catch you then."

"So you can catch me, hmm. That's why?" Jean gives him a wink and starts up the steps. "Nothing to do with view?"

"Oh it has everything to do with the view!" Lucien growls, as he looks up at his wife's backside.

For a couple hundred steps, Lucien and Jean are able to comment on things as they climb. By the time they reach the first level oxygen becomes too valuable to waste on words. Both rather winded, they take a break and a glance at the view. A young couple that were behind them continues upward, laughing along as if it is a stroll in the park. Jean turns to Lucien, whose eyes follow the the youthful couple with a hint of envy in them. "Lucien, maybe this isn't such a good idea. We could still get the lift?"

"No!" Lucien answers so abruptly that it startles Jean. "I'm sorry Jean. I'm fit as a fiddle just needed to catch my breath. You?"

Jean catches something else in Lucien's words and notes the look on his face. The mask that he puts on to cover his hidden truths is in place. Jean can't understand what is bothering her husband but there is something he is trying to hide from her. "I'm perfectly fine, Lucien. Whenever you are ready we can continue. Let's just take it slow."

As Jean ascends, she keeps her eyes focused on the numbers on each step. Sheer relief washes over her when she steps over the numbers 669. She hears Lucien's heavy breathing behind her. It is almost a wheeze. She can't help worry that the stab wound he endured in the spring is interfering with the deep breaths he is taking. They move to a side so others can pass.

Jean holds Lucien's arm, feeling a bit wobbly from exertion and the altitude. They pause a moment to allow their heartbeats to slow before taking in the view. Making their way to the edge that faces the Seine, Jean loses her breathe again but this time from the beauty of the view.

"Oh Lucien. It is magnificent."

Lucien wraps himself around her from behind. "Yes, it is. Look over there is the Arc de Triomphe." He points out points of interest. "There is Champs-Elysee and our hotel is right there." He feels Jean press deeper into him as he continues his narration of the city in front of them. They walk a bit to the right to get a better view of Notre Dame and around to see Les Champs de Mars.

"There really isn't words for this. Is there?" She turns in his arms. She notices the young couple that passed them on the first level. They are giggling and groping each other. She can't help but think that if they were twenty-five years younger would that be them. _No, that wouldn't be us. We wouldn't have been right for each other at that age. This is where we are meant to be. Together, now._ She strokes his beard, looking at him deeply. Words are not needed in this moment.

They stand for sometime, Jean nesting in Lucien's arms taking it all in. As often as Jean dreamt of this, she never truly believed she would experience this. Not just Paris but all that Lucien has shared and will continue to share with her on this romantic honeymoon across Europe. She gives a heavy sigh which causes her darling husband to tighten his hold on her.

"Something the matter?" he asks.

"No, nothing is the matter. Just feel like I need a pinch to remind me that this is real."

He bends and kisses her neck with a bit of a nip. "Will that suffice?"

Chuckling, "Yes, that will do." She takes a few steps away from him before turning. "We should probably head down." She looks towards the stair. "Lucien, I really don't think I can do all those steps back down. Let's take the elevator, please."

Lucien can feel his pulse quicken. Seeing the pleading look in Jean's face pains him. He never meant for this experience to cause her discomfort. He looks at the elevator and back to his dear wife. "Of course, Darling"

When it is their turn to get on the elevator they are at the head of the line. Jean takes Lucien's hand as they make their way to the back wall, people crowding around them. She can feel his palms are clammy. Looking up at her husband, she sees his face blanch and beads of sweat form on his brow. Before the lift it is too crowded for movement, Jean turns to face him and wraps her arms around his waist. As the doors close, Lucien's arms tense around her.

"Lucien, look at me." Jean encouraging him to focus on her, whispering soothing words "You're alright. I've got you."

Jean continues to hold Lucien's hand as she leads him away from the base of the iconic landmark. At the bank of the Seine she finally stops. "Lucien, are you alright?" Jean is trying to make sense of what just occurred. "What happened back there?"

"I'm sorry Jean. I really thought I would be alright until we got here this morning then I thought if I took the stairs."

"I don't understand. I know you don't like small spaces but we've been in elevators before."

"Yes, I know." Lucien keeps his eye downcast, ashamed of his visceral reaction.

"Look at me." She uses a gentle touch to lift his chin. "It's alright my love. I just want to understand so I can help you."

"Oh my Jean, you help me more than I can ever express to you. You have healed me in so many little ways from the moment I met you." She looks up at this man she loves so deeply, his mask coming away once again. Her tender husband who trusts her with his deepest pains is once again in front of her. He continues, "it isn't just about the lift though. I was here, in Paris on a mission. I was to meet a contact up there." He points to the top of the Eiffel Tower once again. "I couldn't do it. I couldn't get on that bloody elevator. I hesitated too long trying to decide what to do when I heard the screams radiate downward. The person I was to meet was stabbed in the crowd." Jean watches him closely reading between the lines.

"This was when you working as a spy?"

"Yes."

"That wasn't your fault."

"I should have been up there to help."

"Or killed along with that other person. When did this happen?"

"Back in '54."

She feels her throat constrict. "That was only seven years ago. Should you be telling me this?"

"No, not really I suppose but ...I don't want to lie to you. That doesn't work out so well for me does it?" Lucien's attempt of levity does not pass by Jean.

"But you can't tell me everything can you?" The tears that she has been trying hold back begin to fall. Tears for the secrets that Lucien must keep, tears for her husband's fears and guilt, tears for the scars on his body and soul that he will carry for the rest of his days.

He cups her cheeks and wipes a tear away with his thumb. "No, somethings are too dangerous for you to know. But believe me, trust me, you will know everything I think is safe for you to know, in time. And Jean, my love, all of that is in the past anyway. You are my life and today I went up that blasted tower for the very first time with you, my wife."

"Yes, you did."

He begins pulling her along. "Let's get a bite to eat. There use to be this wonderful cafe around the corner that made the best …."

Jean continues to stand still making Lucien turn. She pulls him into a deep, longing kiss. She wants to stay in this kiss for hours but the public nature of where they are makes her pull back from her husband's lip. "I love you Dr. Lucien Blake. Don't ever forget that. No matter what happened in the past, I love you."

And he knows that she does unconditionally just as he loves her.


	4. Chapter 4

"Lucien, what is wrong with the clothes I have?"

He looks upon his beautiful wife, choosing his words wisely. "Absolutely nothing is wrong with your clothes. I just thought you might enjoy getting some things from the famous French fashion houses."

Lucien's suggestion to walk Champ-Élysées to get Jean some new things is not going as he had planned. He is reminded once again of his wife's pride. Reminded that his Jean doesn't need all that money can buy to be happy and contented. But he doesn't want her to just be content, he wants to spoil her; give her all that she never had.

"And what do you know of the famous French fashion houses?" Jean questions in a stand of defiance.

"Well, I know women love them." Jean's brow rises. "I mean I've heard women love them. I just thought you would like something new for when we go the Palais Garnier to see the opera. You know what, let's forget I mentioned it." Lucien's shoulders drop in defeat.

This slight slump is what breaks Jean. She really can't take when her dear strong husband looks so forlorn. She needs to work on this before Lucien learns of this weakness and uses it to his advantage.

"Perhaps it would be nice to have something new for the opera." The smile on Lucien's face make her wonder if he has already figured the weakness out. "Just one dress though! I don't know where I would ever where a Dior or Givenchy in Ballarat."

Lucien stares at his wife in disbelief, "I thought you …"

"Don't give me that look Lucien. Just because I don't care to wear some fancy names doesn't mean I don't know about them. Come on let's eat breakfast before I change my mind."

At the table Jean picks up the morning paper to hand to Lucien. On the front cover is a large picture of President and Mrs. Kennedy. She tries to make sense of the headline but can not decipher the french words in front of her.

"Lucien, what does this say about the Kennedys?"

"Let me see. Aaah. They are arriving in Paris today."

"Really?" Jean finds the young presidential family so intriguing along with many across the globe. "Mrs. Kennedy is just so fascinating. You know she had a baby only few months ago. It must be so difficult to be in the public eye with two small children."

"Yes, I would imagine it is." He is getting such pleasure watching Jean talk about a woman that is a stranger to them. Her eyes sparkle with admiration of the young president's wife, a kinship in the loss and strength the two women share.

"...and she was a journalist. Lucien are you listening to me?" He is lost in thought gazing at his own marvelous wife.

"Of course."

"Hmmm, well. I think she wears Dior." Jean gives him a wink, as they both laugh at the turn the morning has taken.

"How is it you seem to know so much about fashion, the Kennedys and just about everything that comes your way?"

"It's called reading, Lucien. I don't just flit around the house making everything look tidy all day long." Jean enjoys impressing him whenever she can.

"You really are the most clever person, my dear."

Lucien, not really knowing anything of fashion asks at the front desk of the hotel for suggestions to where he should take his wife. He chooses the House of Dior as their first stop since she had mentioned the designer at breakfast. They leave empty handed, heading to the House of Worth, the first fashion house in Paris. Nothing seems to be to her liking. Store after store they leave purchasing nothing. Lucien is starting to think that Jean has no intentions of letting him buy a designer gown for her.

He watches Jean meander through each store, garments brought to her from the collections to perouse. He remains close by her side so that he may assist translating between Jean and the vendeuse. Her hands stroke the fine fabrics of the dresses that are displayed in front of her. His Jean knows this world even if she could never afford such finery. He watches her check the stitching of hemlines, the securnes of buttons; if zippers are hidden correctly.

First he finds great amusement that she is scrutinizing each garment with such a particular eye. Then it occurs to him, as if they were in the Louvre again, Jean is taking in the beauty. She is examining the artistry, noticing the differences in colors however subtle. Taking mental notes of cuts, fabrics and design. And just as when she observed the finest works of art, Jean says little, taking it all in. He has no doubt that she will be able to recreate her own versions of the fashions once home.

"Lucien, I think I've decided what I want." Jean startles Lucien who is beginning to doze in a chair in the newest of the Houses, Yves Saint Laurent with it's prêt à porter fashion.

"Fantastic! What one do you want?" Lucien says with a just a bit too much enthusiasm.

Jean gives him the knowing look. She didn't intend to make this day of shopping miserable for him but she is getting pleasure out of seeing him suffer for the sake of fashion. "I've decided on the Chanel."

Lucien's shoulders slump. "Not one of these." gesturing to the racks of clothes before them.

"No, I think one of the Chanel dresses will be best. They seem the most versatile. And they are made beautifully. Let's go." Lucien watches his wife walk out of the store with the distinct sway of her hips, head held high. He feels reenergized watching her movements.

Jean runs her hand down her hips turning in front of Lucien. "I think that this is lovely but maybe I should try on that one too." she say pointing to another dress that is hanging in front of her, one that, according to the assistant, is similar in design to what Audrey Hepburn will be wearing in a new film.

Jean goes into the changing room for a fourth time. She holds up the black dress observing the high front and low back. There is something about this one, not the long gown with yards of fabric that has her heart fluttering in anticipation to slip on. It is something Jean Beazley would never dare to dream of wearing but Jean Blake, the wife of a doctor, a major, a former spy can. The lines are simple but elegant. The fabric like nothing she has ever felt in Ballarat. She is assured that any alterations will be complete in time for the opera but this dress fits her perfectly, showing her slim frame, accenting the curves that she knows her husband enjoys; sleeveless with a hem a bit higher than she normally wears. The back drapes daringly low, just hitting the top of her bra strap. _Some black heels, long gloves will add elegance, and new undergarments may be needed._

"Jean...How's that one?" Lucien is starting to fidget, when Jean comes around the curtain.

"Well, what do you think of this one?" She gives a little spin knowing the effect it will have on him.

His mouth falls open as he manages a _bloody hell_.

"So then we agree this is the one?" Lucien nods with a smile that is full of desire. "Good. Why don't you go settle the bill while I change."

"Lucien there is one more store I want to go in." Lucien lets out a groan and his head drops. "This was your idea!"

" I know. I'm sorry, my darling. Anything you want." He tries to make a quick recovery.

"Hmmm. It just so happens I want you to go to that cafe and wait for me while I go in there." She points to a store that carries the finest of lady's delicates.

"That sounds like a grand idea."

She takes a hold of his arm as he is about to make his way across the avenue. "Umm, Lucien, I need money." Jean says quietly. It has been far too many years since she has had someone to rely on to provide for her. Asking for money from Lucien is still difficult for her and to his credit he knows that, usually intervening taking care of her wants and needs without her needing to put voice to them. Though she has some of her own money in her purse, she knows that it will not cover the cost of the items she seeks in that boutique.

"Of course." He hands over his entire billfold adding a deep kiss for reassurance. "Spend whatever you like."

Taking a deep breath before stepping over the threshold, Jean takes on an air of confidence that she doesn't have in herself. She looks around and is pleased that it is so tasteful and elegant. The center display has a beautiful woman arranging a negligee on a model. Jean makes her way further in, hoping she will see what she needs to avoid the inevitable language barrier.

"Puis-je vous aider?" a young vendeuse says as she approaches Jean.

Jean understands the question from the countless shops they have visited through France. "Yes, I purchased a dress from The House of Chanel that is quite low in the back and I need…" Jean is trying to mimic her needs as she speaks.

Mercifully a young assistant speaks English. She leads Jean to the back room where things can be brought to her in privacy.

"What color are you looking for madame?"

"Color? Oh, of course, black. I think." she is chiding herself for feeling so nervous, like a virgin school girl, not a married woman in her forties. "Yes, definitely black."

For almost an hour Jean handles the most delicate lace and silks. She sees things that she has only read about in magazines at the beauty parlor. The nervousness passes, along with the minutes, as she tries on garments that make her blush at herself standing in front of the mirror. She starts to understand just what Lucien sees when he looks at her. The desire he has for her. She came in here to get something for herself but now only has pleasing her husband in mind.

"Madame, have you decided?"

"Yes. I'll take the matching black lace set, the ones trimmed in red and this green negligee." She puts the small scrap of silk on the counter. The green silk had caught her eye at once among all the blacks, reds and pastels. It is her green, their green, the green of the dress that first turned Lucien's head. She tries it on to be sure but she knows she must own it. She feels no guilt writing out the exorbitant check to pay for the items.

Stepping outside, the sun much lower in the afternoon sky, she looks across the busy street to see Lucien sitting at a table, his long legs stretched out before him, hat over his face. _Sleeping!_ Jean can't help but chuckle at him. _He'll never ask to go shopping again._

"Is this seat taken, monsieur?" She can see the smile overtake his face under the fedora.

Sitting up, placing his hat on the table, Jean leans in for kiss. "As a matter a fact, yes. It is for the most beautiful woman I know."

Coming from Lucien, she believes these words. She reaches over to grab the pastry he has set before him. "I'm starving."

"Ha! Worked up an appetite. I hope you enjoyed yourself, darling?"

Jean leans over putting her lips to his ear, giving his upper thigh a squeeze, a tease of things to come. "I did. And I think you will too."


	5. Chapter 5

Jean wakes to Lucien's hand rubbing her green silk covered hip. The sun is shining brightly and the grumble in her stomach tells her it is late in the morning. Her muscles ache and there is a tenderness at her core from the night's passionate lovemaking. She relishes the feel of the tenderness, a reminder of how alive she really is with Lucien. A contented smile is on her face recalling the previous night.

She slips the green silk out of the box and quickly make her way to the bathroom while Lucien's back is turned. The man is rambling on about some club he wants to take her to before leaving Paris. A friend of his from way back owns it now. She isn't really listening. Her mind racing, her heart pounding in her chest with anticipation. There are things she has questioned about herself in regards to Lucien but this she knows she has right.

Jean shuts and locks the door behind her. If Lucien notices the click of the lock on the bathroom door, which she has not used since being married, he doesn't say anything to her relief. She doesn't want him bursting in and spoiling the surprise. Her clothes from the day are off and hanging with precision. She slips off her knickers, one less barrier to remove later. The green silk slips so easily over her skin and the gentle scraping of the lace that covers the bodice send a sensation through her breasts that makes her let out a small gasp.

She can hear Lucien still talking away but his words allude her. Looking in the mirror, Jean takes care to brush out her hair, softening the curls just the way Lucien likes them. A quick brush of her teeth and a dab of her pale pink lipstick; she is pleased with how she looks for her age. It isn't until she is reaching to unlock the door that she notices the tremble in her hands. The nerves that still linger in the back of her mind that this life, this man don't belong to her are slowly surfacing. _Stop it, Jean. He chose you, loves you._

Jean opens the door slowly not for dramatic effect but to allow herself one last deep breath to compose herself. She sees Lucien back still towards her in a state of half dress. He is just pulling off his trousers, shirt unbuttoned, mouth still running about lord knows what.

He turns to sit on the bed to remove his socks, " and I think you will love the gardens at…" Jean catches his eye as he goes to sit. His mouth drops and so does he on the floor, having missed the bed in awe of his beautiful bride.

"Oh Lucien! Are you alright?" Jean is quickly by his side, kneeling next to the now silent man.

"Bloody hell! You are…" He continues to stammer trying to find the words to convey all that she is. "Mine."

Any twinge of nerves that may have been present vanish with that one word. "Yes, Lucien. I'm yours. I'll take that you approve of my new garment?" Lucien can only nod, still finding it difficult to speak. "Maybe we should get off the floor?" She stands reaching out her hand to him. He take hold of it, rubbing a thick thumb over the rings that grace her left hand, allowing her to guide him up.

Lucien is immediately covering her mouth with his, tongues darting between lips. His senses coming back to him. His wife, his Jean bought this negligee for one purpose and that is to turn him on. He will do everything in his power to show her that he is worthy of her efforts. That above all else he treasures her.

Time seems to hold still yet Jean feels like the room is spinning. Lucien is bare to her, corded muscles and scars under her hands. His large hands roaming, kneading her flesh. His mouth tracing the lines of the lace. The sensation of his mouth on her nipples through the lace has her weak and breathless. She goes to remove the silk. He grabs her wrist and growls, "leave it on."

"What are you smirking about Mrs. Blake?"

"Just thinking about last night." Lucien's hand have been drifting higher up her body, having reached the seam where silk meets lace under her breast.

"Mmmm, me too." She can feel the stirring in his groin leaving no doubt of what he is thinking about.

Jean turn and sits up, flipping Lucien onto his back before straddling him. One of his hands on her thigh toying with the hem while the other hand sliding up her side. "I'm glad you like it."

He looks up at her to sees such deep love in the steel blue eyes. He sits up to hold her better, tighter. " I love it and I love you."

They stay in this embrace, Jean's nose deep in his neck lost in his scent, until she feels his tears hit her cheek. "Lucien?"

"It's our green."

"Yes, yes it is, my love." She kisses him deeply, reawakening what was started a few moments before.

This love making will not be like the previous night. A night full of lust, exploring undiscovered pleasures; secret wants and desires. No, this morning it is Lucien and Jean, who adore and respect each other above all. They slowly make love holding each other tightly, holding onto each other closely in their reverent love shutting the outside world out for a little while longer. In this bedroom in Paris only they exist.

There are times in their love making that tears are shed. Not tears of sorrow or pain but tears of shear joy that their two lonely souls found each other. That they have a chance to love again. As they lay holding one another these tears fall once again. Lucien cradles Jean in his arms as she tighten the grasp of her legs around him, both spent but neither ready to let go. Lucien finally roll over onto his back taking Jean with him.

The sun is high in the morning sky Both are ravenous from all their physical activities. Lucien stomach's growling gets Jean to laughing, giving levity to the moment. "You aren't use to go without food this long anymore doctor." Jean gives his stomach a pinch.

"Yes, you spoil me." Lucien sits up swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. "Why don't I order some food while you wash up, darling?"

"That sounds like a marvelous idea." She watches Lucien slip on his dressing gown as he makes his way to the sitting area to call downstairs.

Jean stretches out in the middle of the large bed. She looks out the window at the clear blue sky above the Paris skyline. A few more tears fall as she smiles thinking how blessed she is, that each step of her life led her down the path to him. Eyes cast upward she whispers a _thank you. _Whether she is thanking God, Christopher, the universe she can not say but she is thankful for her life for her Lucien.


	6. Chapter 6

"Jean, you look exquisite." Lucien places a hand on her hip pulling her closer to pepper her arm with kisses, as she pulls a white glove above her elbow.

"Thank you, Lucien. You need to behave or we will never make dinner before the opera." She turns to him, straightening his tie and smoothing his jacket lapel. "You look quite dashing yourself."

She catches a glimpse of themselves in the mirror and can't help but think that they really do look well together. Two pieces of a puzzle that fit perfectly together, two pieces that make the picture complete. She looks at her reflection as if she is looking at someone else. This is not a farm girl standing next to this handsome, strong doctor but a woman of grace and elegance. She is wearing a Chanel and the finest lace undergarments that she has ever owned. She is a doctor's wife.

"Shall we my darling?"

"Yes, I think we shall."

"Lucien, how did you manage all this?" Jean looks around in awe at the Cafe de la Paix from her seat in a secluded corner. The hundred year old restaurant in the Grand Hotel is lavish with it's gilded pillars and frescoes.

"As soon as you gave me our wedding date as a Christmas present I started planning this trip. The first things I did was to procure the opera tickets and this table. After I took you to get your passport that is." He tells Jean with great pride. "The rest of the trip fell in place from there."

"Have you been here before?" She doesn't know why she asks this or why it matters but since their day at the Eiffel Tower Jean feels the need to know what is knew to him. Needs to know if Lucien is trying to create new happy memories to replace the demons that still plague him when he least expects it.

He looks deep into her eyes, knowing the answers to the questions she truly seeks. _Did you come here often? _ _Did you bring other women here? Did you come here as a spy? _ The answer is the same for all the questions.

"Yes. I've been here before. That is why I know we have the best table in the place." He holds up his glass to toast her but there's a darkness behind his smile.

_Creating new memories._ Jean wants to know more but doesn't want to spoil the evening by leading Lucien down that path. He chose this night first to make new memories and she will do everything in her power to make tonight perfect. There is plenty of time to learn more about his trips to Paris. _He told me I will know everything he can tell me in time. Be patient Jean._

"Good, than you order for me. Mind you I don't want escargot!" She says with a bit of a shudder. She watches Lucien's darkness pass and the twinkle is back in his eyes.

"I thought you wanted to be adventurous?"

"I do to an extent. I just don't think I can eat something that I see crawling in my gardens." They both laugh at that, Lucien not bothering to try and argue that they don't pluck the snails from the gardens to eat.

"Well what do you think you would like?"

"Something light, I think since we will be sitting most of the evening. And you?"

"I think I'll have the lamb." He says with a wink, the levity is brought back to the evening.

They enjoy the most delicate yet complex food. Jean savors each bite, dissecting the flavors in her mouth. She takes bites of Lucien's food off of his plate much to his delight. He even gets the escargot almost to her lips before she giggles that she just can't do it.

Full with dinner and wine, Jean tries to pass on dessert but Lucien insists on them sharing the best crème brûlée he has ever eaten. She relinquishes seeing how much Lucien wants her to experience this dessert with him. The maitre d brings the check as they are finishing. Jean catches a glimpse of the bill before Lucien pays. Doing a quick conversion in her head she can't help but think that this one meal is more than a week's worth of groceries at home.

They head out in the evening walking the short distance to the Palais Garnier. "Lucien, I know you said not to worry but how are we paying for all of this?" Waving a gloved hand around the city before her.

"Jean." He says in his warning tone.

"Please Lucien. You do remember I do the books. I know what we have in the accounts." She feels Lucien stop as her arm gets pulled back. She looks at him and sees the deflated hurt little boy again. "You know what, it doesn't matter. If you say we can afford all of this than I trust you."

He pulls her into his embrace, gazing deep in her eye. His Jean does trust him, trusts him with her every being. "Jean, I have an account that has been building for years. Mostly monies from my post war service but it also has been growing with my army pension and well other means. For years I spent little on myself beside good whiskey, necessities and the search for Li and Mei Lin." He sees her brow furrow in the way it does when she process information, making sense of his words, reading between the lines.

"Your own account? Lucien, how much?" Jean has never experienced an excess of money. She is having a hard time digesting that Lucien can have an account with money untouched, just setting aside waiting to be used. Most of her life she has had to watch where every pound is spent. Her years living in the Blake house have been the kindest, never going without. She made enough to buy fabric to make her own clothes, yarn to knit her evenings away, an occasional film, her treat of new nail polish or lipstick but she never has had enough to squander foolishly.

"Actually it is our account. I put your name on it when I did the other accounts and the deed to the house. And it's enough that I can spoil my wife in Paris on our honeymoon. My darling, I can think of no better way to spend that money than to give you the world. "

The tenderness in his eyes melts her. They are standing in front of one of the most spectacular opera houses in the world and yet she feels only they exist. They kiss gently as a motorcade arrives and a commotion arises, the Blakes pull apart as they hear a passerby say that the Kennedys are arriving.

Jean's eyes grow wide as she glares at Lucien. His hands fly in the air. "I had nothing to do with this, I swear."

Inside Lucien's hand rests in the small of Jean's back as he guides her along towards the grand center staircase in the lobby of the Palais Garnier. He can feel her pulse quicken as her eyes take in the surroundings. The enormity of the stairs overwhelms her, as they head to their balcony seats. She has yet to utter a word since the initial breathy _Oh my _when entering the building. They settle in their seats, Lucien watching his bride, watching her face, reading every thought going through her brilliant mind.

"Lucien this is magnificent and the performance hasn't even started! I can't believe we are in the same building as the President and his wife." She takes his hand, smile beaming on her face. "Thank you for spoiling me."

"My pleasure darling."

Opera has never been Lucien's music of choice so he finds himself drawn to watching his wife. _Did he just catch her stifling a yawn?_ He begins chuckling which earns him his wife's glare and an elbow to the ribs. As the house lights go on indicating the intermission Lucien leans into Jean, "Drink?"

"Yes!" Jean says in ernest, eyes wide.

They are weaving through the crowd making their way to the bar when Jean hears someone calling Thomas, in French. She doesn't give much thought to it until the caller seems to be heading directly to them. A large, dark haired man calls Thomas once again.

"Lucien, I think that man is talking to you." She can feel his muscles tense under her hand.

The man is upon them grinning widely, "Thomas Etienne, comment avez-vous été?"

Lucien stares deep into Jean's eye conveying a million unsaid thoughts before turning to the man speaking in English. "I'm sorry. I don't think I know you." His arm tightens around Jean's waist, holding her too tight for comfort.

The man looks confused saying again. "Thomas Etienne?"

"No, Doctor Lucien Blake." He turns back to Jean who sees the turmoil on his face. "Shall we?" The man looms behind Lucien, certain in his recognition of the bearded face, older, grayer, heavier but the same blue eyes.

Jean being her ever clever self thinks of a quick exit for her husband. "Lucien, would you mind terribly if we leave? I'm not feel well." Giving a little wobble to her stance for added effect.

"Of course, my darling." Lucien supports Jean as they walk past the stranger making their way towards the door.

Once outside in the night air they walk along in silence for some time, hand in hand as become their custom, not wanting to break the connection as if their hands keep the electric current flowing between them. With the lights and sounds of the opera house in the distance, Jean turns to Lucien under the glow of a street lamp. He worries that she is angry or worse yet frightened by the encounter but not his Jean.

"Thomas Étienne? You couldn't come up with a more original name other than using your father and mother's? Good heavens Lucien. Were you any good at this spy work you did? Because I would have had you figured out in no time."

He welcomes her sass, knowing his reaction to the dark figure from his past has unsettled them both. "I know, I know. I picked something I could remember easily even if I was blind with drink. And believe it or not I was very good at my job. Though you would have outwitted me I'm sure." He wraps his arms around her, enjoying the feel of her bare back in the low cut dress against his palm. "You are far more clever than me Mrs. Blake." He is forever grateful her strength and that this remarkable woman understands his old life enough that no other explanations are warranted.

"Mmm, so you always say."

"That was a very professional move you made back there." He looks down at her feeling forlorn that their night is cut short by his past.

Simultaneously they start to apologize, then laugh at each other. "Lucien, it is all so beautiful but I really don't think I need to see an opera ever again."

"Good. I forgot how much I hate the bloody things."

" Lucien! You went out of your way to make this night special, something to remember and well….are you disappointed?"

"Jeanie, my love, this night turned out to be perfect...perfectly us. Now I have spent hours watching you in this dress, knowing that there is something new underneath that I'm dying to see."

"You think so Doctor?"

"I know so Mrs. Blake." Lucien says with a smirk as his hands begin to roam as he kisses her neck along the pearls she is wearing.

"Well then, my love why don't we head back to the hotel and you let me spoil you for awhile." The glow of the lamplight highlights the mischievous look that Jean wears giving Lucien such a visceral response that he knows that this night most certainly will be a night to remember.


	7. Chapter 7

"Gin!" Jean places her cards down on the table amongst the remnants of their dinner.

"Bugger. Jean, I just can't seem to beat you."

"Hmm, nor will you." She gives him a wink, grabbing the last piece of cheese out of Lucien's hand as she makes her way to the sofa.

The weather had turned cool and stormy in the early morning hours. They spend a lazy day in their hotel room rather than waste the trip to Versaille in the rain. Jean wants to be able to enjoy the famous gardens at leisure. Lucien agrees having never been there himself that it be best to wait until the weather breaks. Late in the afternoon they venture out to get some food and wine to bring back to the room.

It is days like this that Lucien enjoys the most. It is as if only the two of them exist. As much as he loves showing Jean everything she ever dreamed of and more, these hours when it is just the two of them alone without distraction he holds dearest. They spend hours talking of their pasts, dreams, hopes and fears. They are allowed to laugh, cry, be themselves without the trappings of society; feel like young lovers despite the lines of the passing years on their faces.

Lucien watches Jean as she curls up on one end, tucking her bare feet under her. Jean is wearing one of his shirts, having been caught in the rain on their way back to the hotel she had stripped off her wet clothes, grabbing his discarded shirt from the previous night. She never looked more beautiful to him, natural curls hanging freely, minimal makeup, eyes shining brightly.

He gets up to join her, "you do look beautiful tonight."

"Why thank you. I'm wearing the finest men's shirt that Ballarat has to offer. You know only the best for my husband." She is trying to continue the playful mood of the past few hours.

"Twenty-two." Lucien says he nestles himself next to her.

On the long flight from Melbourne to Greece, Lucien came up with this game. They would give one another an age and they would have to tell something about themselves at that specific time in their lives. There is so much that they don't know of one another's past despite having intimate knowledge of each other's daily lives. They knew each other's favorite meals, colors, music, time of day just from the sheer proximity of sharing a house for so long but each had full lives before ever meeting at the house on Mycroft.

Jean lets out a long sigh. "Lucien, do you really want to do this now?"

"We agreed. You can tell as little or as much as you want. It's your turn for a story"

"Alright, twenty-two." He loves watching her face when she thinks of what she will tell. It is as if she is flipping through a book to find the correct page. "Well, I was pregnant with Jack." She unwinds her feet from under her and reaches for a glass of wine.

"That's it! I know you were pregnant with Jack."

"Oh, you made the rules! As little or as much as I want. But no that isn't all." she puts the wine glass back down after emptying it. "As I was saying. I was about eight months pregnant with Jack, so Christopher Junior was just over two. There was a terrible storm, one of those winter storms where a degree colder the rain would be snow. Christopher had gone into town for something, what I can't even remember now. The weather kept getting worse, the hour later and no Christopher. The power went out so I bundled Christopher up and snuggled by the fire with him. I remember feeling the baby moving around inside of me and Chris's little arms wrapped around my neck and thinking what am I going to do if something happened to Christopher. How was I going to take care of my babies without their father. I did a lot of praying."

Lucien takes her hand, seeing the tears roll down her cheek. "But he came home."

"Yes, he did, that time. It was nearly dawn when he was able to make it home. So much went through my mind that night that when he left for the war I just did what I needed to do for my boys and I. Oh, and the next day I made him go and get us phone!"

Lucien pulls her into his embrace, kissing the top of her head as she rests on his chest. "I think you are the bravest woman I know."

This makes her chuckle. "I wasn't brave that night. I was scared to death! I hate that feeling, the helplessness. Anyway, what about you at twenty-two?"

"Ahhh, that was a fairly boring year. I was in medical school so my nose was deep in text books and when it wasn't I was banging on the drums."

"Nothing to tell? No deep dark secret?"

"Well, I did get an A on a paper that I didn't write."

"What? How is that even possible?"

"I told the professor that I wrote it and he swore he read it but must have lost it so he gave me an A." Lucien starts to laugh. "I don't suggest try doing it more than once though."

"You didn't Lucien."

"I did. Ended up working on it all night because the professor expected a new copy of it the next day. Not one of my finest hours." They both are laughing uncontrollably this time tears at Lucien's youthful folly.

They lay curled up together enjoying the sound of the rain beating down to the same rhythm as their heartbeats. Jean rubs her fingers through his beard, pulling herself into a deep kiss before pulling back to look deep into his soul. She takes a long sigh, "Lucien, the man at the opera? Should I be worried?"

"No, no one to concern yourself with. He is a cafe owner. The cafe was used as a meeting point with my handler. As far as he knows Thomas Etienne was just a regular customer that never came back."

"Then why didn't you acknowledge him?"

"Honestly Jean. I just panicked that my old life is still so present." He squeezes her closer, "that I could bring you into that life. In Ballarat it all seems so long ago." He trails off thinking of the dangers that never concerned him before Jean. His life didn't matter the same way before Jean. Now he has everything to live for. She is his everything, if his old life brought her harm. He can't even think what he would do.

She can feel him tremble with fear and worry. "Lucien, it's alright. I knew from the moment I chose you. The moment you jumped on that bus heading to Adelaide that my life would never be boring again. You are worth all the excitement, intrigue and risk."

Jean begins kissing him once again bringing Lucien back to the present. She burrows deeper into his side resting her head into his neck breathing in his scent. He begins strumming a tune along her spine as if it is piano keys; humming the tune that is in his head. She recognizes it at once. A song that they dance to in their home. Jean begins singing the words. There's somebody I'm longin' to see. I hope that he, turns out to be someone to watch over me.

Jean stands pulling Lucien up on his feet. "Dance with me Lucien." He embraces her in their dance as only lovers do. They dance together to the beat of the rain and the music they make; singing in harmony a song that brings them home. They continue to stand holding one another long after they stop swaying.

Lucien finally speaks. "Tomorrow Notre Dame?" Jean gives a bit of a shrug. "Jean, you will be sorry if you don't see it."

"We have seen it."

"From afar in the city is not the same."

Since leaving Sacred Heart, having her church turn her out so easily it has been difficult for her to enter the many cathedrals that they pass on their trek across Europe. Their visit to the Vatican City left her feeling solemn that her happiness with Lucien puts her in line for an afterlife in Hell. She spent her life never questioning the teachings of Father Morton's sermons. They were the words of God, the gospel. That was all before Lucien, before this man who questions everything especially the church.

"Of course, Lucien. Tomorrow will be fine."

Lucien understands all too well her inner turmoil but doesn't want her to miss out on the beautiful ancient architecture. "We won't go for a mass if that makes you feel better."

Jean nods with her forehead on his bare chest. She knows he is doing this for her. She doesn't want to be mad at the church and she doesn't want to renounce God but her faith, the tangible faith here on Earth is in Lucien. She leaves a long kiss on his chest, as if trying to tattoo it on his heart before looking up into his blue eyes. She once again rubs a hand along his beard, softly singing. Won't you tell him please to put on some speed. Follow my lead, oh how I need someone to watch over me.

He tenderly brushes the stray tear from her cheek. "Lucien, let this be our church. The two of us, wherever we are together be our sacred place."

"My Jean, I will always worship you. You are all I need to know there is goodness and beauty in this world." He resumes the hum of the song as they sway, the room alight with the flashes of lightning as the storm rages on around the lovers.


	8. Chapter 8

The early morning clouds disperse to a clear blue sky. Perfect weather for a walk up the steps to Sacré Coeur. Over breakfast Jean suggest they will visit both cathedrals that day. In the evening, after a rest from the morning trek they will visit Notre Dame before heading to Lucien's friend's club.

"You sure you want to visit both in one day, darling?"

"Yes, I figure if I'm going to get struck down by lightening to get all over at once!" Jean says lightly. Their dance, song, love of the night before abolishes any regret and guilt that had been planted once again by their visit to the Vatican. It was her choice to follow her heart and marry Lucien; to walk away from the church. Looking at her husband, his hair still ruffled from sleep wearing just a vest with his pajama bottoms, his bright blue eyes sparkling as he smiles at her, she has no doubt that her love for him is stronger than her devotion to God. She no longer cares if that means she will burn in Hell for this love, for if she does there will be many others there whose only sin is loving another.

Lucien laughs, "If anyone is going to be struck by lightening it will be me long before you my dear."

Standing at the top of the hill Montmartre, the romano-byzantine style structure looms before them. They rest after the hike up the many stairs that lead to the basilica. Taking some time to soak in the breathtaking view of Paris at this elevation the lovers sit. Jean leans close into Lucien's side as one of his arms shelters her from the watchful eye of the Catholic Church behind them.

Jean breaks their silence. "Two more days and we are off again." She gives a small sigh. "It really is so beautiful for a city isn't it?"

He chuckles, "Yes, for a city."

She gives him a poke in the ribs with her elbow. "You know what I mean. It's hard to compare the Greek Isles or the Swiss Alps to this."

"You are absolutely right my dear." Reverently kissing her at the base of this holy place. They truly are their own sacred beings to worship wherever they chose.

Jean reluctantly pulls away from him standing, reaching out her hand, their life line to one another. A simple touch of their hands calms and centers their souls. This is what she needs to enter this place of worship. Lucien's fingers lace with hers, the heat from him a reminder of the rightness of her choices.

As they enter through the massive doors Lucien stops in front of the holy water font, dabs his fingers in, crosses himself before giving Jean the smallest of nods; a knowing smile, an understanding glance towards his wife, as if saying _see no lightening._ Jean follows, her own fingers dabbing in the cool water, years of muscle memory going to work. Her still damp fingers find their home in his palm while Lucien's damp fingers trace her cheek resting at her lips as if each are blessing the other with the waters.

Lucien notices tears sitting in her steel blue eyes. She takes a deep breath willing them away before she gives him the comforting smile that assures him that she will be alright. Blessed with each other, they walk further to take in the splendid beauty of the basilica.

It is early evening as they make their way to Notre Dame. They take the car being dressed for a night of dinner and dance as Lucien puts it. He can't help but have salacious thoughts as he helps Jean from the car. His eyes start at the black heels hitting the ground and make their way up her legs to where the hem of her black dress hits on her thighs as she slides out of the car.

"Lucien, you can wipe that look right off your face. We are heading to a cathedral." Jean chides him but he notices a glint in her eye.

They decide to walk around the perimeter first as the evening mass finishes. The hymns radiating from the organ warms Jean, even Lucien admitting it is an ethereal sound. They are in awe of the beauty and craftsmanship of the medieval structure, the famous gargoyles high above standing guard. They make their way to the door as the throngs of people dissipate. Upon entering it is Jean who goes to the holy water first then turns to Lucien.

"You don't have to do this again. You know, don't want to press luck or anything." Jean's levity genuine. Visiting Sacré Coeur early is making this visit infinitely easier, _just another piece of history to see._

"Jean you know I don't mind."

"I know darling. I just don't want your skin to burn from all the holy water." To which Lucien let's out a roaress laugh that has Jean shushing him.

The scent of incense hangs in the air inside the massive cathedral. The sun low in the evening sky shines through the breathtaking stained glass windows. They find their eyes drawn towards the heavens looking at the vaulting and flying buttresses. They walk along the edge, marveling in the artwork, sculptures that adorn the ancient building, lost in time.

When they cross over the threshold, back to the present, the sun is setting. The sky is alive with color. The reds, oranges, purples are as if they are being painted by God's hands for them. Walking over to the edge overlooking the Seine, Lucien wraps himself around his beloved as they breath as one at the majesty before them.

As the colors change before them, Jean turns in his arms. "Thank you my love." The words are simple but are said with such depth and conviction that their true meaning reaches him.

With those four words Lucien knows that His Jean is at peace with herself, with him, with God. That no matter what life puts before her she won't look back with regrets any longer. He has no words that can convey how much this means to him. That he can rid himself of that small fleeting feeling he gets that he is replacing Christopher or God in her life. Their life won't be perfect but it will be full of unconditional love and understanding. It will be their life to lead as they choose, to make what they wish. He bends into her, kissing her deeply as the bells toll.


	9. Chapter 9

"We should head back to the car." Lucien speaks into her ear, nose buried in soft curls, breathing in her scent. They stand at the edge of the Seine at the base of Notre Dame watching the last trace of the sun setting.

She pulls his arms tighter around her waist, making them one entity before exhaling as if expelling the last bits of demons and sin, cleansing both their souls. On the next breath she turns with a smile for her husband. "Ready." And she is ready, ready for whatever life puts before her.

Lucien maneuvers the streets of Paris with such familiarity and ease that Jean is once again reminded of the life he had before her. She finds her cheeks hurting from smiling at her darling husband. His exuberance in showing her off to his old friend and the narrative that he tells as they weave through side streets excites and warms her. This is the side of Paris that she never knew she wanted to see. This is Lucien's Paris.

"Over there on the left is Moulin Rouge. George's place does well from the overflow and after the Moulin's shows are done." Jean seeing the lights and windmill turning down the street. He continues further down before turning down a smaller street.

"How thrilling. Why aren't we seeing something there?"

Lucien finds himself stammering thinking of how not to offend his Jean because in all honesty when he planned the itinerary it never occurred to him that she would like such a show. Often the shows can be more daring and risque than a typical night out at the theater. Of course he realizes how very wrong he was in his thinking. "Need to save something for next time."

"Mmmm, is that so." She gives his knee a playful squeeze where her hand has been resting on the drive. "So tell me about this George. You played in a band together?"

"George McLeod was a school mate of mine in Scotland. He was studying the classics or something. We met at a pub. He started playing the piano and the rest is history as they say."

"Why do I get the impression there is much more to the story?"

With a laugh, Lucien responds, "because you know me too well. George and I would come to Paris to play with a few other band mates. Our favorite place for a gig was Allumeur de Réverbéres, The Lamplighter. On one visit back in '34 George decided to stay. He had fallen in love with Fleur, the owners daughter."

"How romantic. Do you always visit George when in Paris? Get the old band together?" Jean notices Lucien's sparkling smile dim with her teasing.

"I'm afraid George lost his arm in the war." Jean and Lucien sit in the now parked car in silence. Lucien turns to face his wife, the glow of the street lamp their only light. "Jean, I'm going to tell you something that must never be repeated to anyone."

Seeing the struggle on Lucien's face, she knows this is one of those secrets that she really shouldn't know. "Lucien, it's alright if you don't want or can't tell me. I understand."

"I want you to know this. I wish I could tell you everything but…" She notices the strain on his face.

"Lucien, you know you can tell me anything. Who am I going to tell anyway? You are the only one I tell my secrets to." She leans in, kissing him, calming his nerves.

Breathing deeply Lucien continues, "George was badly injured in the war but he continued to serve the Allies. After the war he, well he worked with me as a contact in Paris. You could say he was a bit more than a contact really. Noone suspects a one armed, former pianist, family man of espionage."

"Lucien, and…" Jean says wearily.

"And he is still very much involved. Of course I'm not privy to the information any longer but with everything going on with the French in Indochina, George is still active. That is why under no circumstance can you say anything. It would put him and his family at risk."

"Why on earth are you telling me this then Lucien?" The look on Lucien's face tells her there is more. "Oh, Lucien. Are you still involved?

"No, no. I promise you I'm not. It's just I'm going to need to speak with George privately." Lucien is getting the full on Jean eyes. He has to look away for fear of telling too much. "I need to let George know that I was recognized the other night at the opera and that you were seen with me."

"He wasn't just a cafe owner, was he?" she asks warily.

"No. Yes. Oh, it's complicated."

Jean lets out a sigh, "I expect nothing less from you Dr. Blake. You did warn me life with you would be messy." She gives him another kiss, reassuring him that all is well. "Shall we go meet your James Bond friend?"

Lucien takes her hand as she is about to open the car door. "I do love you my darling. I'll never let anything happen to you, ever. You know that don't you."

"Yes, yes I do."

The Allumeur de Réverbéres is just as she pictured it from Lucien's description; dark,warm, the air filled with smoke from the candles and cigarettes, music filling the room. Jean can't help think how alluring and for a lack of a better word, sexy the club seems to her. Leave it to Lucien to make her feel as if she is stepping into her own movie. A back street Parisian nightclub with her handsome doctor spy husband, she can feel the flush rise in her cheeks as her pulse quicken with excitement. _My life certainly will never be neat and boring with Lucien. _

Above the music a loud _Blake _makes its way to them. Immediately Jean sees a large burly man that can only be George McLoed making his way to them. "Bloody hell, Blake. It's been far too long since I've heard from you. Thought maybe you were dead."

Jean is taken back by the abrasive directness of George's demeanor. The club is as she envisioned but Lucien's comrad is certainly not the romantic piano player that came with the scenario.

"George, this is my wife Jean."

Jean extends her right hand, immediately catching her error as Gearge grasps it with his left. An awkward shake takes place but Jean is duly aware of the strength in the one hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Jean. You must be a remarkable woman to put up with this bloke." He gives Jean's hand an extra squeeze and looks deep into her eyes when he speaks. "Not many I know would have the patience for his antics."

Normally if a man held her hand a bit too long and stared into her eyes, Jean would become uncomfortable but George's actions seems to be conveying an unspoken ease to her. Every physical trait, the volume of his voice, knowing his vocation should be frightening and yet as Jean stares back at this man there is an understanding between the two; a camaraderie in their affections for Lucien.

Lucien's arm loops around Jean's waist in an unconscious move of possessiveness causing George to release her hand. "She is more than remarkable. One of a kind. Now is Fleur here?"

While the band is on a break, Lucien pulls George aside, leaving the wives at the table bonding over after dinner drinks. Through the years Fleur's english has become fluent and the two women are deep in conversation. It never occurred to him that his Jean may miss conversing with other women but she is clearly enjoying discussing recipes, and children with Fleur. He is grateful for the interaction as he makes his way to the far end of the bar with his old friend.

"What's on your mind Blake?"

"Gabriel Aries ran into Thomas Etienne at the opera house a few nights ago."

"So, your back in town visiting." George not seeing the significance of the encounter yet.

"Jean was on my arm and I bloody panicked and said he was mistaken and gave my real name. George my real God damn name." Across the room Jean can see Lucien rubbing his face, visible upset. Her instinct is to go to him, calm him, reassure him but she knows she can't. She needs to continue her part as the dutiful wife.

George takes a large swig from his glass and motions for a refill. "Damn, your out of practice mate." Downing the last bit of whiskey before handing the empty tumbler to the bartender. "I'll do some checking but I'm sure it will come to nothing. Gabriel never became more than a middle man and I doubt he would know who to go to with this."

"Right. It's just Jean. Nothing can happen to her. She can not be put in danger."

"I'll make sure of it. So she is that special? I mean after what happened with Mei Lin and all."

"George, she bloody well saved my life. She is everything to me. I never knew I could want, need someone as much as I do her." Lucien looks over towards Jean and finds her watching him. They lock eyes as she gives him a small knowing smile.

"How much does she know, Lucien?"

"Just enough so that I don't have to lie to her." He makes his way back to his Jean never breaking the hold that their eyes have on one another.

The band is back on the stage and begins to play a slow bluesy tune that fills the room. He takes Jean hand, pulling her to her feet. "Dance with me." He leads her to the small dance floor, holding her tight.

"Everything all right?"

"Right as rain, my darling. Right as rain."

She knows that he isn't, that he can't tell her the truth that is upsetting him. "Yes, it is." She kisses him deeply as they sway to the melodic sounds, before resting her head on his shoulder.

Exhaustion taking over from the enormity of the day. Today Jean found peace facing the church with her love. Tonight she will help him find peace with the past that continues to haunt him. As they move on the dance floor, she sees George watching them. Her hands grasp Lucien's shirt a bit tighter, frightened for her love, knowing just as that day in the cemetery that she will give her life for him if necessary.

George's well trained eye notices the change in Jean's grasp as she watches him in return. From the way Jean looks at him he is acutely aware that she knows more than Lucien led him to believe. _Yes, Blake found himself good one, probably too good for the likes of him. _He gives Jean a reassuring nod before turning to his own wife. Who lives a simple, happy life in her naivety of her husband's true profession.

Lucien feels the sting of Jean's nails in his back from the hold she has on him. Tears spring to his eye in the knowledge that his clever Jean knows things without him needing to put voice to them. _She would have made a much better spy than I ever was._

Song after song they continue to sway in a manner that if in Ballarat would be scandalous until Lucien hears Jean whisper that it's time to go. They are the only ones on the dance floor. _When did the crowd leave?_ Lucien thinks. They make their way to the McLeod's at the bar to say their goodbyes.

"Blake, I don't suppose I'll see you again?"

"No, I don't think so. My life is with Jean in our small town, far from here."

As they make their way to the car, Lucien pulls her into the crook of his arm to kiss her temple. "Thank you."

"For what Lucien?"

"Putting up with me. Marrying me. Being you." He turns to give her a deep kiss but pauses to look in her expressive eyes, the eyes that tell him so much. " Thank you for loving me."


	10. Chapter 10

The nightmares came that night. Of course Jean knows of the nightmares, has even soothed him through some rough nights but the horrid dreams don't come as frequently as they once did. In fact since Jean has been sharing his bed none have plagued him. They both know the horrors Lucien experienced may creep into his unconscious mind, terrorizing his slumber, eventually.

She vaguely hears the first moans, just loud enough to make her stir. Lucien's thrashing wakes her fully. She can see the pained look on his face in the moon light that streams through the window.

In the past when Jean has comforted him it had been his shouting that always woke her. She would make her way to him often finding him already awake from his own terror, needing comforting arms and acuppa to settle his nerves. Watching him now she sees how they begin. She is uncertain if she should wake him but decides to let him try and work through it with her presence guiding him. Jean wraps herself around Lucien, ready for whatever comes next.

The restlessness seems to pass, Jean feels herself start to drift back to sleep with the sound of Lucien's heartbeat in her ear when the words start. At first she can't make out what he is saying then words start to become audible _not good enough, best, don't go, deserve you, don't hurt her._ With each phrase the desperation in the words rise. Jean is uncertain where in time his mind is taking him. Is he concerned for Mei Lin, Li? Then he calls for Jean and she knows that it is the events in Paris that has brought on the nightmare and it is she that he fears for.

No longer able to bare his agony Jean begins to wake him. Gently she rubs his cheek, softly speaking directly into his ear as she has done before. The first time she eased him awake in this manner they were barely on a first name basis. When he woke he stared into her eyes for a long time before asking how she knew to wake him like this. She just gave a shrug before turning, leaving him sitting in his bed in awe of the housekeeper.

"Lucien, it's alright. I'm here. Wake up darling, please." Jean continues to stroke his face in an attempt to wake him.

Lucien's body is covered in perspiration as his eyes spring open, his pulse racing. He sits up to catch his breath, wiping his face with his hands. When he looks at his Jean, the concern and love that is present in her eyes causes his body to shake, sobbing uncontrollably. He holds her with a desperation of one that has experienced loss.

"Jean, you were gone, up the tower. I tried to reach you."

"It was just a nightmare. I'm here. You are here and everything is fine." Jean cradles his head against her chest allowing his tears to fall her own mixing with his. They sit together in silence for a long time. Finally the pins and needles that overtake Jean's arm cause her to move. "Better?"

"Better." Lucien gives his best attempt of a smile.

Jean turns on the bedside table lamp and notes the time, 3:45. It has only been a few hours since they crawled into bed after their night at the club. "Why don't you go wash your face and get out of those damp clothes while I fix the bed." She gets up, pulls out clean underwear and singlet for him from the case she has started to pack. Jean kisses him reverently while pulling him out of the bed, coaxing him towards the ensuite.

Jean slides back into the bed as she hears the shower start running. She sinks into the pillowing knowing sleep will likely not come for the pair. The shower stops, moments later Lucien is sliding under the sheet next to her not having bothered with the undergarments. She is here for husband in whatever capacity he needs her.

Right now he just needs to hold her, feeling her pulse in his hand, her heartbeat in his head, her warmth against his skin. He speaks softly, head resting between her breasts, "I'm sorry."

"No, don't you dare ever apologize for something like this." She lifts his chin making him face her in the dim light. "Lucien, my love, please don't, not with me." Jean begins to kiss away the lines of worry and regret from his face.

"You know it was in my dreams that I think I first knew I couldn't live without you."

"How so?" Jean has never heard this story, confession yet.

Lucien nestles his head back on Jean's chest before proceeding, still needing the sound of her heartbeat to settle his nerves. "When I first arrived in Ballarat, I was a mess."

"I remember very well."

Lucien chuckle, "Are you going to let me continue?"

"Yes, of course." She can't help but smirk as she feels the tension leave his muscles.

"As I was saying. I was a mess and dad was so ill. You were very patient with me even though I know you didn't approve of me. You took such great care of both of us Blake men. The days before dad died I would watch you, especially your hands."

"My hands?"

"Mmm, your hands. They were always busy even when the rest of you were still whether you were knitting or just holding dad's hand in yours." He gives a small smile as he feels Jean halt her hand that has been stroking his hair. "The fifth night I was home the nightmares came but they were different for the first time. I don't remember the details but I was in a dark damp hole, everything closing in around me but this time your hand, your red painted fingers reached for me, pulled me out. The next day I went and got my beard trimmed, a haircut and a new suit. I wanted to do better for you."

"How could you have been sure it was my hand?"

"Oh my Jean, the first couple of days it was easier to watch your hands then see the disappointment in your eyes." He hears the hiccup in her throat. "It's alright, I really was a disappointment at the time. I show up at your doorstep drunk, disheveled, angry."

"It wasn't my doorstep though Lucien."

"Ahh, you are so very wrong. That house was, is more yours than it ever was mine or ever will be. I think of all the times you tried to walk away from the house, from me. I would be lost Jean. I know I could never stay in that house without you. You are what makes it home to me."

"Fifty?"

A serenity fills him that he hasn't felt in days. "At fifty I found purpose again. I found home. I found my best friend, my love in you, my darling."

They lay in silence for some time, the early dawn light filling the room. Just when Lucien thinks she is asleep Jean asks the question that he has been waiting for nearly a year to hear. "Why were you going to let me go?"

"You weren't mine to ask to stay."

"But I was... for so long."

He raises himself up, stretching his bare body along hers. "Well, we know how well I did letting you go don't we. In the end I had to take the risk that you might need me as much as I needed you."

He feels the change in Jean's pulse as he caresses his tongue along her neck. Instinctually her legs part to allow Lucien to ease into the warmth, comfort that joins them as one. Her hands finding purchase along the scars on his back. Her words roll from her lips as if speaking a solemn prayer. _I need you, always. _


	11. Chapter 11

The bags are all packed waiting for the porter. Taking one more turn around the balcony and sitting room, satisfied that nothing is left Jean makes her way to the bedroom where Lucien is still snoring in the center of the large bed. She double checks that he has all the clothes and toiletries he will need to get ready for the day before turning to gaze at her husband. She sits at the edge of the bed watching her beloved sleep.

It is only after they made love in the early morning hours did Lucien fall into a peaceful slumber wrapped in his wife's embrace. Jean lay for sometime willing sleep to come to her to no avail. By sunrise she knew sleep would elude her so the course of the rest of their honeymoon was planned out in her mind. First on the agenda to leave Paris behind as soon as possible. This city has given her much. It filled a dream that she barely remembered dreaming so very long ago. It gave her peace with the church; elegance, passion and excitement with Lucien but last night showed the toll that it is taking on her dear man.

"Lucien, darling, time to wake up." Jean hands gentle brush along his beard. She wonders if she will ever tire of the feel of the coarse hairs on her skin, she doubts that she will.

"Mmm, what time is it?" Lucien mumbles as he stretches, the sheet sliding down revealing more of his bare muscular frame. Jean can't help but trail her hand down his chest planting a kiss at the center over his heart.

"Nearly ten so time for you to get up." Lucien's eye open fully when he feels Jean's lips depart from his skin.

"You look ready to go. Did you get any sleep at all?"

"Never you mind that. I got us all set to go. All you need to do is get yourself ready. Now come on." Jean stands pulling Lucien into a sitting position.

"Jean, we don't check out till tomorrow?"

"Yes, about that." she gives him one of her tentative smirks. "I was thinking we should check out today before we leave for Versailles. Then we can head to Belgium, stay there for a day, before we go to Amsterdam. We should be there by nightfall. It will give us the whole extra day to explore instead of traveling."

He knows her so well, knows exactly what she is doing. His heart swells for his beautiful Jean. "That sounds like a marvelous idea."

"Good. Shall I order you something to eat or do you want to wait and get something on the way?"

"We'll get something out. I won't be more than a tick."

Jean stands in the grand entrance, looking up at the chandelier and elegant stairway, a confidence in her that a meer two weeks ago she lost for a moment when first taking step into this place. Something in her tells her she will never feel not _good enough_ for Lucien's world ever again. Lucien makes his way to her, eyes sparkling as she smiles at him.

"Your chariot await, my darling." Lucien extends his arm so that he may lead her outside.

"You know Lucien, I hear the Kennedys were at Versailles." She gives him nudge, making him laugh which is the response she is looking for. Today she wants levity and adventure.

The enormity of Versailles is overwhelming. Jean is silently relieved that parts that were once open to the public are closed for renovations. She sees enough of the opulent decor and gilding to last her lifetime. They make their way out to the gardens. The reason she wants to visit this historical palace to begin with.

"What do you think of it?"

"I'd hate to have to clean this place that's for sure!" They both laugh, not caring about the looks from others.

"Come on. Shall we head to the Grand Trianon?" They walk, fingers linked tightly with one another, past statues and fountains that rival any that were seen at the Louvre, a comfortable silence between them.

Lucien is back to studying his Jean as she takes her surroundings in. He thinks that this may be one of his favorite things, well after the obvious, watching Jean's mind work, the wonderment that lights up her eyes at the new things she is experiencing. _If only she could see herself through my eyes._

"It really is fascinating to think of all the history that has taken place here. All the people that have walked these same paths. Isn't Lucien?"

"Yes, it is. And now we are here."

"I hardly think the Blakes visit will make the history books but it is exciting to be here." Lucien stops walking. "What is it?"

"The Blakes. Plural. I never thought… I just love that I'm not one anymore." He pulls Jeans into his arms.

"Me too, darling." She rolls onto her toes to reach his lips more fully, deepening the kiss before giving a playful nip that she knows he enjoys.

"Mmmm. And who knows, maybe someday we will be more than two." He says with a glint in his eyes.

"Oh Lucien. I really wish you wouldn't." She tries to keep the annoyance out of her tone.

"Come on Jean. A man can dream."

Her husband, the doctor, the major, this man of strength and presence to the world stands inches in front of her looking so fragile and hopeful. "You are such a dreamer. My dreamer but Lucien you and I both know the likelihood. Besides we're grandparents!"

"I know, I know. It's fun trying anyway." the devilish look back, wanting to avoid the serious nature that this conversation can take.

They continue strolling through the maze like paths. Lucien notices the furrow in Jean's brow. There is a tired look that has set in her eyes. Uncertain if it is the lack of sleep or the fact he mentioned once again his desire to try and have a child with her is cause for the change.

"You know Lucien, my mother used to call me a dreamer, that my head was always in the clouds or a book. There were so many things I wanted to be and do."

"What happened, Jean?"

"Life. Reality slowly whittled away at the naivety of my youth, till all that was left was practicality."

"I can see that dreamer in you still."

"You can?"

"Oh come on, you dream of winning the grand prize at the Begonia Festival!" Lucien flashing smile immediately dims when he sees the hurt in his wife's face. "Jean, I'm sorry. I was just joking."

"No, your right Lucien. For so many years my dreams have become nothing more than a winning flower or coveting new elegant fabric to make dress. Safe dreams. Dreams that don't rip part of the heart out when they disappear."

"Oh, my darling." cradling her face in his large hands attempting to soothe away the pain.

"I'm trying Lucien. I'm trying to find that part of me again. I want to be that dreamer, to take chances, to be braver. I sometimes feel like I've forgotten how to so please, Lucien keep dreaming for both of us."

"You are most definitely finding that part of you but in the meantime I have plenty of dreams for both of us my darling. Now tell me Mrs. Blake what was your last big dream? What dream did you have that wasn't safe?"

She looks deep into his soul. She marvels that he really doesn't know. With a shrug as a tear falls, "You."

He loses his breath at her confession. He knows what she has sacrificed for loving him. That choosing to love and give herself to him is anything but safe. He draws her closer to kiss away every tear that is shed.

"You know we are quite the pair. You help me avoid my dreams all night long and yet you want me to have dreams big enough for both of us by the light of day."

"You think you're up to the task doctor?"

"For you I will do my best."

Jean fold herself in her husband's warm embrace amongst the fountains and flora of the past. The exhaustion taking ahold. She can feel her eyes get heavy as her head lay on his chest. "Lucien, can we go? I am practically asleep on my feet."

"Of course."

Jean curls up in the seat, resting her hand on his thigh. He gives a sideways glance at his wife before focusing on the road ahead. "Sleep my love. We won't be at the border for at least three hours."

She tries to stifle a yawn, "maybe just for a little while. Wake me if there is something I should see."

"I will."

"Promise?" Her eyes closing involuntarily.

"Promise."

"Lucien?"

"Mmm?"

"I love you."

He is sure that his Jean doesn't hear his _I love you too_ as sleep overtakes her. He drives to the north leaving the City of Lights behind them. The city that revealed secret and demons. Where their love grew deeper, stronger with each passing day. They both know deep down that they will never see Paris again and that is alright. The rest of the world awaits them, as does a loving home in Ballarat.


End file.
